In February 2005, I felt a tiny patch of skin at the back of my head: about the size of fingernail. It was nothing alarming, but all the same it was a small smooth patch of scalp in a place where it should not be.
So what did I do? Ignored it. Yeah, great!
A few months later when I found another smooth patch of skin on the other side of my head, I decided that ignoring it was kind of dumb and not the right way forward. So, I found a dermatologist and went along for a chat.
The doctor was not overly concerned and said: "Patches of baldness can happen frequently and go as quickly as they come". He explained that these patches are often linked with hormonal change, life change, childbirth and the like, and in short, were nothing much to worry about. So, off I went, on my merry little way, believing in the temporary nature of the patches. And that was that.
Over the next few weeks, the patches got a little bigger, but still weren’t visible, so I carried on with life and thought nothing of it. The next part is a bit of a blur in my memory but I do recall that the growing state of my patches began to concern me as the round patches started to merge into a long strip across the back of the head.
I was no longer happy to wait and see. I was no longer convinced it was nothing and the hair would grow back soon enough. I was no longer okay with what was happening to me. If I am honest, I became scared. I was too fearful to talk to anyone about it. I was unable to find the words.
The fear was, maybe surprisingly, not that I was worried about my health. Rather, I was becoming increasingly aware of the visibility of the condition. During sport or with a gust of wind, the patches could be momentary visible. I was, simply, worried about looking odd and ugly. Looking like a freak with no inch of beauty about her. I was afraid of the future and I was deeply afraid of myself.
At this point I was referred to the local university hospital, and it was there that I got the diagnosis. I had alopecia areata. The diagnosis at this point was surprisingly easy, but the rest was anything but. There was no cause and no cure.
So it was at this point that I, at 30-something, was faced with hairloss. It could possibly be a permanent feature of my life, but then again, maybe not. The diagnosis was clear, but nothing else was. It was then that I began the journey of me and, unknowingly, at the same time began the journey of discovering beauty.
In part two I will outline what happened next, including the treatment options and the bitter reality of what lay ahead.
Stay tuned...
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